Girl meets Mental Illnesses
by perFANfection
Summary: Different mental illnesses through the eyes of Maya, Riley and other characters. Each one of them holds their own unique story and battle, and seeing it through their point of view makes it come alive. See what it's like for each character day by day and how they handle their 'differences', and Topanga and Cory's view of raising a special needs child.
1. Anxiety through the Hart

**Note: This is only a start, but I was so excited and hopeful for this story that I had to publish just what I started. As someone who struggles with multiple mental illnesses, this story is my outlet for my personal experiences in characters, and in hopes to reach out to a community to support and be supported. Please enjoy and share your story if you please! Nothing is more comforting than knowing there are others going through similar things.**

 **Maya's POV**

*September 8, 2:06 a.m*

I'm awake though it's not quite dawn, and my thoughts are turning in my head and emotions are tumbling in body, causing panic to arise in my chest. I'm not sure where or why this is coming from, but the thought of it getting worse, or even _throwing up_ is making me more anxious. Any normal day, not just in the middle of the night, it comes as a wolf in sheep's clothing, no look, no warning, then _Boom!_ You're feeling paralyzed, and for a lack of a better phrase , "Like a chicken with its head cut off."

Anxiety has no "look"; It's not just hyperventilating, pacing, sweating, heart palpitations, or just physical. It's spacing out, distant starring, an uneasy sense of not being able to bury the panic when you're out in panic. And it's not just panic attacks. It's always, constant burst of energy in my body, feeling on edge all while feeling emotionally and physically exhausted at the same time. Panic attacks are the worst, and you can't push them down, sometimes an overwhelming sense of nausea. Panic attacks are just the most extreme form, like when I can't get a grip on anything and it feels like everything is spiraling from my control. Their when my anxiety is becoming so overwhelming that I feel like i'm suffocating.

No, I can't " _Just calm down",_ or wish it away. It's not for attention, it's not for your pity, and I don't want to hear how you calm yourself down when you feel "Anxious". I want a friend, not a pity party. Someone to sit beside me just to keep me company, not give me unsolicited advice on how your mom's cousin is on meds and they're working miracles, or how you had a "mini panic attack" one time. Tell me that you're there for me, making me aware that you're here for me, that thought you don't know how i'm feeling, you understand it's not my fault and beyond my control. Worst of all, don't compare your experiences to mine. All i'm looking for is a friend, and so far, Riley is the best friend I could ask for.

When I distance myself, she's understanding. She knows it's not her fault, my fault, anyone's. It's the fact that i'm having trouble maintaining and control emotions. All I ever could need is for someone like Riley. But unfortunately, she thinks this is just a "Phase", that i'm just a little more closed off than usual. She has no idea that for the past six months, i've been seeking professional help.


	2. Autism through eyes of mother and child

**Sarah C. POV**

When my dad's not directing and my mom's not there for moral support, my mom is either babysitting, cooking, cleaning, or shopping, and my dad is sleeping or watching Netflix. He doesn't have much to say after a stressful day, and truthfully, I'd like to stay out of his way. He's got anger issues, and I know he means well, but anything that lands in his line of sight during a rage becomes victim to either a hurled object or flying insults. My mom says it's the nature of his job, yelling at adults all day and he is unable to separate his home life from his work day. I know it's mental illness.

"Sarah, you've made a mess in my kitchen! You can't have friends over if you can't clean up after yourselves." My mother lectures once again, looking sternly at me as she hands over a wash rag.

"Margaret! Sarah hardly talks to anyone during school! Who would she have over?" My dad launches a cheap insult from his recliner, turning up the volume on his show.

My dad was raised by my bull hearted grandfather, who didn't believe in hugs or gentle nature, and any crying in his house was unacceptable. It didn't matter whether you scraped your knee or were upset about a dead pet, if there were tears, he didn't want to see them. My father, shut off from showing any emotion as a child, didn't recognize or show any emotion except anger, and occasional happiness, if you could call it that.

On top of his emotional walls being drawn, any attempt in my childhood to uncover any dirt on my half sibling, (my dad's child, not my mom's) resulted in the subject being blown over by an angry " _Don't you worry about the past, child!",_ followed by a change in the subject such as sports or the weather.

Even if I never find my half-sibling, the more important thing in life is the one's you already have, and finding a way to help them succeed. And i'm really hoping that for my dad and his bipolar disorder, there is something out there. I'm not looking for a cure, i'm looking for help.

 **Topanga's POV**

Landry had been diagnosed with autism since the weeks following her second birthday. The adjustment to her diagnosis hadn't been easy, but it hadn't been unexpected either. She had been behind since six months old, and we knew something was off when she was turning three in just a few months and her speech had been that of a fish. She threw in little grunts and moans here and there, but mostly she's afraid of social interacts, public places, and though her autism wasn't the farthest on the spectrum scale, she had very poor social, motor and facial skills. Frustratingly for both of us, Landry couldn't express her feelings in any way other than basic frustration and temper tantrums. Though we knew she admired us, she couldn't show it, as her emotions were as simple and firm as a brick wall.

Social anxiety was terrible, as she hardly liked to leave our sides and refused to play with the children at the playground. This morning was different however, as she refused to let her sister go.

"Landry, sweetheart?" I paced between the kitchen and the living room, looking in any of the places she could be sensory seeking in.

It dawned on me that the one place she would most likely be if she adored her sister (which she did) was their shared bedroom. So starting up the stairs, I rounded the corner into her room, finding her and Riley snuggled beneath the covers of Landry's bed, Riley squished but Landry curled up beside her, not a care in the world as her sister voiced in different characters from her favorite fairy tales.

"Landry, we've got to get to the store this morning, and your sister needs to get to school." Calmly and confidently I approach them, kneeling beside the bed and outreaching my arms for Landry to climb into.

She stared with wide eyes, watering as she prepared for her latest meltdown, however the tears slowly faded and she looked back to Riley, who was nodding encouragingly towards her. Landry reached out her hand, firmly yet gently wrapping it around her sister's wrist, silently begging her to come with.

"Mommy needs you to be a big help at the store today, promise me that?" Riley smiles, helping her off the bed and towards her dresser, reaching inside for a light sweatshirt.

If Landry would listen to anybody, it would definitely be her siblings. I'm not sure if it's an act of early teenage rebellion, or the terrible two's, but my heart was thankful that even during a sensory overload, there was someone she could always find comfort, despite not always being able to adapt to her surroundings or other people. It was a family effort to go anywhere but we were just a normal family trying to get along with our abnormal ways of living. Having a special needs child didn't change anything except our perspective on a cruel and judgemental world.

What people didn't see was the same little girl we saw when she was happily playing piano alongside her brother, finger painting with her lunch, or mindlessly humming to her favorite disney song. Not everyone could see past the temper-tantrums, loud wails that echoed through the aisle of a grocery store, an angry and overwhelmed red face distorting to express through loud, exhausted screams, the only way she knew how.

We've worked on sign language, and we're happily helping her with behavioral therapy, but when we feel stretched to the max as a family, running to appointments and recitals and after school art shows for Maya, we know that all in the end it will be worth seeing our kids happy and appreciative for all they have and that has been done for them. For Landry, it will be big steps such as being able to walk through a grocery store, go to the movies, or being able to cheerfully wave to someone she knows. But for now, we're content with just watching our little girl make milestones like eating certain textured foods, or playing with finger paint and play-dough.

The doctors have recommended a pet, maybe even a service dog, but we've known for years that once our family was ready, (which it is now, with Maya and Landry) we'd consider it, but didn't know if we could make that commitment. However, tomorrow would be the day we would take our kids to a shelter to pick out a puppy, or cat, (Cory's preference because he's terrified of small 'ankle biters'). We couldn't wait to see the [possible] joy on Landry, Riley and Auggie's faces' when we find the animal to complete us.

 **Landry's POV**

I'm not a naughty little girl. I'm not weird or crazy or dumb. I'm not what other people perceive me to be from the outside. And I don't need people to look or talk down to me. What I want is for people to understand that I've got some troubles pertaining to my emotional abilities, trouble expressing through words how i'm feeling. It's released in a body language that most people call naughty, but mommy and daddy call "sensory overload".

See the world from my eyes, take a walk in my shoes and absorb everything around you through my mind, and you'll see it's a world of noise, feels, and smells that all want to intrigue me at once. Imagine trying to keep calm when everything around you is out of control. When it feels like everything is happening at once and the world is closing in. Imagine trying not to scream out when there's a lion pulling at your head, while someone is squeezing bike horns in both ears, and rubbing sandpaper across your fingernails. The sensory overload would be too much.

Though i'm in my own world, I can feel the tingle of your stares on me even if i'm busy screaming. The haunting glare from those who don't understand can hurt my mom and dad's feelings, but all they want is for you to reach out and offer to help. We've had a gentleman offer to finish my mommy's shopping while she consoled me on the aisle of canned foods in the grocery store once. The nice old guy helped us finish our shopping and loaded the groceries in the van while my mom got me strapped in my car seat, despite my kicking, rocking and screaming, drawing attention from those around us.

I'm not scary, strange, or weird. I'm different but not less. I'm that kid that wants to be invited to play on the playground with your children while my mommy reads on the bench, or with joy in her heart watch as I master the skills of making friends. I want to be accepted by my peers, and not be seen as an outsider, even if my view and response of the world is different than yours. Most importantly, I want people to understand that I am human. We all are unique, and each of us is a puzzle piece that completes each other.


End file.
